


A War To Be Won

by JayneSmith



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Magical Theory (Harry Potter), Master of Death (Harry Potter), Muggle warfare, Refugees, Squibs, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-22
Updated: 2020-10-09
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:36:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26603836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JayneSmith/pseuds/JayneSmith
Summary: Wars are not won in a day, they are cruel, they are messy and at the end of it all, can anyone truly win?Marvel/Harry Potter cross over with a gratuitous use of an artistic licence in character origins (sorry not sorry)!I own nothing, its why I make coffee for a living...
Comments: 14
Kudos: 17





	1. The Skirmish

**Author's Note:**

> Hi all! 
> 
> So after my crossover one shot, I decided to give my series to you all, it's a WIP, however, the first arc is completely planned (I know I'm as shocked by that as you are...) and partially written! 
> 
> My update schedule going forward is looking like this: 
> 
> WKR - Sundays 
> 
> A War to be Won - Fridays 
> 
> Whose Saviour - On hiatus until the muse strikes (sorry guys) 
> 
> Family First- Once a month -likely around the 20th 
> 
> Anyway.... Enjoy!

_Durham -09/02/2001_

Cloaks splayed out behind the force as the harsh rain hammered against the small force’s backs. They were young, too young to truly be considered veterans, yet on their side of the war that is what they were.

The black-haired man had taken point his green eyes flashing through the darkness as the evidence of spellfire scorched the walls, the smell of ozone still permeating the air. They were close. They were so close.

Coming to a stop in an alleyway, his cohorts followed his lead, a few taking points on the rooftops to watch the surrounding area while three others came to his side, all taking in their surroundings.

“They can’t be more than a couple of minutes ahead of us.” The ginger man, taller than his compatriot murmured from the green-eyed man's side. He merely grunted in acknowledgement; his eyes focused in on the blonde girl at their side.

She tilted her head slightly as if listening to something no one else could hear, her eyes went dark for a moment before zeroing in on a point at the end of the alley. The green-eyed man followed her gaze, taking in the presence of a bright pink backpack, singed, probably by a curse or hex. Approaching it with caution, the leader allowed his magic to reach out, running the usual diagnostic spells. It was safe, the curse likely having been meant for organic matter rather than an object.

Taking it in his hands he tentatively opened the battered backpack, only to find a meagre number of protein bars, children’s clothes and a beaten-up doll. The sight of its contents set a stone in the pit of his stomach, his entire body tensing at the implications of the find.

But before any of the contingent could question their leader’s reaction, a high-pitched cackle wrent through the air, every member of the squad stilling in recognition.

A growl came from the blond man, who has situated himself above, as he turned to face the direction the laughter had emanated from. The leader pulled himself together, refocusing on the task at hand, and glad their Dragon had been a Slytherin in their school days. He knew patience and the importance of a planned attack. If it had been Fenrir’s howl, even he doubted he could wrangle the two gingers of his company into not attacking immediately. But he wouldn’t test that patience. He was not that cruel. Casting a repulso at the floor as he jumped, the feather-light charms woven into his armour and tattoos that now littered his body took effect, making the jump to the top of the two-story building an effortless feat. He joined the blonde, looking out towards the direction that spell fire was once again visible. Letting out a breath he centred himself before giving out his orders.

“Take the rapscallion route, there appears to be at least two civilians. Take them into custody and portkey them out immediately… one of them is a minor…” There was a slow moment of silence while his company took on that information. It was always difficult when children were involved. Needing to tone down the tense atmosphere, the green-eyed leader turned his gaze on the blond beside him who met his gaze, ready and waiting.

“Do try to up your count Dragon, it’s starting to lag.” The blond mock sneered at him, as a small hint of amusement suffused his expression, “You wish”.

With that the company took off, bounding across rooftops towards the fight, hoping that today's mission would be a success.

***

_Hogwarts 02/05/1998_

Sitting on the bridge leading into the castle, Harry Potter held the wand in his hand. The elder wand. He had summoned it much to the Dark Lord’s anger at the beginning of their confrontation. After dying, returning and the death of the snake, Harry had become arrogant. All he could see was victory. He had been a fool.

Thankfully, his elders had not been so foolish.

Severus Snape his fool of a Potions Master, who had survived despite the odds who had been transported by his friends, on his walk to his death to the infirmary had appeared above him in the clock tower of the castle. And he had known what the Dark Lord would do. The scolding he had got from the irascible bastard was well deserved and Harry had never been so thankful for his intervention.

Severus had seen what Harry could not, well what Harry would not. Despite the odds, the light had pushed the man into a corner, he was without the elder wand, without Horcruxes and a massive number of his supporters were either dead, fled or had turned traitor. There was only one thing for the mad man to do, retreat.

And Severus had seen this, something Harry hadn’t even contemplated the other may consider.

So, he had committed the last act of the battle, as the man turned to leave, sealing his soul, or what remained of it to the monsters deformed shell. The white spell light leaving the battle a victory for the light, as pyrrhic as it may feel.

Because he was not the only one to suffer losses. They had suffered so many, and the clean up was going to be horrendous. He had spent the last four hours pushing out and destroying any remaining Acromantulas from the castle, before re-erecting the siege wards to give the remaining inhabitants of the castle at least some semblance of protection. He and a few remaining members of Dumbledores Army had situated themselves strategically in order to keep watch for any attempted infiltration. It was unlikely, however now was the time to pay heed to Moody’s words to live by, constant vigilance.

And that had left Harry here, because if nothing else, the sight of him would be enough to at least put a pause on any infiltrator’s tracks. It left him here to see the destruction the battle had wrought, holding the tool Voldemort had desecrated Dumbledore's tomb to retrieve. A tool with such a bloody history that was now his. It would have made him laugh if he were not so exhausted. For he, one of the last remaining heirs to the Peverell’s was for all intents and purposes the Master of Death. He had felt the shift in his magic as soon as the wand had slapped into his hand, he had felt the world shift and knew that nothing would ever be the same.

A voice screamed at him to destroy it. And perhaps once upon a time, he would have. If the Dark Lord had fallen here, he would have, he would have destroyed it and walked away, married a witch and gone on with his life.

But it was not over. Voldemort lived and he was mortal. And Harry would need every tool, every advantage at his disposal if he had any hope in defeating the madman. Closing his eyes Harry followed his instincts and summoned the stone. It took but mere moments for the thing to fly towards him, and he caught it with the accuracy his seeker reflexes had honed into him since he was eleven. As soon as the thing touched his skin his entire being hummed in contentment, in the rightness of having the three together and with him. Sighing in resignation Harry knew he would never have that life, and though he hoped for a quick victory, he knew it was not to be.

Looking out to the horizon Harry watched the sunset as the castle stood sentry behind him. A war is not won with a single battle. And he had been naïve to ever think that maybe the case.

***

_Durham -09/02/2001_

The roar of the wind and the spatter of blood, rain and mud lashed against the young leader’s skin as he fought to avoid spellfire while returning his own. The brigade of death eaters had been larger than they had been expecting, numbering almost two dozen with Bellatrix and her insanity at the helm. The odds were never good for them, but in this instance, they were worse than usual. If it had been only a year ago, Harry would have called for the team’s immediate retreat.

But so much had changed in the last year, they were better, and they at least stood a chance at rescuing whatever poor buggers had been Bellatrix’s quarry. He had caught sight of one of them. At first glance, Harry had thought the man a muggle and had sought to portkey him out immediately. That was until the man had taken out two of his attackers within mere seconds of each other, leaving the death eaters circling, watchful and cautious. It was a rare sight to see and Harry was curious about this man who had struck such a chord with some of the Dark Lord’s elite.

Their arrival had at least taken some of the heat, off this mysterious wizard, a half a dozen of the death eaters having been taken out on sight and in complete surprise. Bellatrix had shrieked in rage turning on his company, a dozen of the Death Eaters turning to fight off his, leaving only four to circle the stranger. But he couldn’t concentrate on that, not yet.

Now that the Dark Lords minions knew there was another force here, the advantage of surprise gone, he and five of his team were fighting for their lives, felling as many of the enemies as they could while shielding their comrades. It was bloody and dirty, their only saving grace being that Bellatrix had yet to work out exactly who they were, and so had not yet joined the battle. It was good to know that the introverted notice me not charm that the research core had painstakingly constructed and enchanted into their cloaks were working, Nym would be pleased.

Avoiding a recognisable blood-curdling curse, the young leader pulled his attention back to the battle at hand, focusing in on the nameless Death Eater. He had to be careful not to reveal too much too soon, the longer they underestimated him and his team, the longer the bitch would stay out of the fight and the more likely they were able to escape with their objective and no casualties. They couldn’t afford any more casualties.

Downing the man with an overpowered diffindo, literally disarming him, the young leader continued on the fight, waiting for his team’s signal.

***

_Hogwarts- 03/05/1998_

The day dawned after the battle, Harry still on the bridge, unrested and waiting.

It was the clatter and shouts that finally pulled him from his watch. Standing and turning from the view, Luna stepped onto the bridge, giving him a small smile as she took his seat.

He was needed he supposed. Sighing he marched up to the castle standing tall as he entered the entryway, as the shouting and noise finally became discernible words.

“… scum! How dare you stand there, and claim anything, it's because of you and your kind that we’re even in this mess!” The jeers that followed left harry anxious but he worked not to show it as he sped up his pace and the crowd came in to view. He should not be surprised, not really. Dean stood there, Dean who had lost Seamus, stood toe to toe with the Malfoy lord, who despite everything stood tall, but had a resigned expression. Harry shook his head. The man should have known better than to say anything so soon. He and his family should have hidden in the dungeons and waited for at least some time to pass. But that was not to be.

Before anything more could be said, however, a Hufflepuff, fifth-year perhaps, spotted him and announced his entrance. There was no other word for it, not really, as the entire crowd turn toward him, well all but the Malfoy Lord who tensed under his gaze. Harry said nothing as he truly took in the scene, Draco stood before his Mother wandless yet still strong, still protective, Narcissa watching the crowd with calculating eyes. The crowd was hostile, a selection of various students from the three houses remaining in Hogwarts, obviously wanting judgement, wanting retribution.

If Harry were completely honest with himself, he had no idea what to do, with this trust that had been put in him, in him to be judge and jury and the likely executioner. Thankfully, it was Hermione who approached him, having stood to the side, watching the events progress.

Turning to her, his expression blank she looked mildly concerned. He softened his expression slightly for her but kept his posture tense and straight so as not to give anything away from anyone watching their conversation. She gave him a soft smile before casting a muffliato around them, giving them at least a little privacy for her to fill him in.

She did not start the conversation as he had thought she would.

“You haven’t slept, have you?” That was a trap. So, Harry just blinked at her ignoring the question entirely as he waited for an explanation. His bushy-haired best friend merely sighed in resignation as her own eyes flicked towards the crowd and the Malfoys who stood at the centre.

“The Malfoy lord has claimed sanctuary for neutrality.” Harry raised his brow in confusion and the girl scoffed as she scowled at him. “Seriously if you had just picked up Hogwarts a history, I would not have to explain things so often…” She muttered, the response was so normal, so Hermione, Harry couldn't help the small quirk of his lips, which the woman just scowled more deeply at.

“Hogwarts is a castle, and through the old laws a Lord or any head of house can claim sanctuary in return for neutrality, and magic will bind them to such a vow. However, Hogwarts is currently without a Master, or well the Master it does have is currently under guard in the infirmary as not enough people yet understand why Ron and I saved him. Its only our word that’s even keeping the man from being cursed to the ends of the earth. So, he can't accept their claim or bind them, and no one would trust that right now.” Harry nodded in understanding before eyeing the group with a question in his eyes. He didn’t even need to ask for his friend to start spouting solutions, mumbling next to him. It was only when he met Draco’s eyes that he came to a decision. Because those eyes were not defeated, they were full of fire, a protective fire that seemed misplaced until Harry laid his gaze on Narcissa who was bleeding. He didn’t even pause on his approach cutting his best friend off mid-sentence.

The crowd parted before him as he approached the central group of blondes, Draco and the Malfoy Lord stilling completely neither taking their gaze off of Harry's approach. He ignored them. He only had eyes for the Malfoy lady. He stooped directly before her and before anyone could say anything he knelt before her meeting her ice-blue gaze.

“May I?” He indicated to the wound which up close looked much worse than from the doorway, her eyes narrowed, her gaze clearly pained yet still cutting as ever. She nodded, slowly taking her hand away from her side. Casting a simple diagnostic charm Hermione had insisted he learnt he couldn't suppress the hiss of displeasure as he scowled up at the Malfoy lady.

“This is a poisoning of your magic, and it's far too advanced, I don’t think even the healers of St Mungo’s can save you now.” A small mewl of grief erupted behind him at his blunt words but the Malfoy lady’s gaze softened slightly as she responded.

“Even if they had got it early child, this is one of Bellatrix’s stronger curses, it entwined with my magic on contact, there was no saving me from the moment it landed.” Rubbing a hand over his eyes in exhaustion he met the blue-eyed gaze of the Lady once again.

“I owe you a life debt.” The words echoed around the hall, a ripple of whispers and negations following it but harry remained crouched waiting for the woman’s response, hoping she’d catch on. Her own eyes lit up in understanding a small pained smile painted her lips.

“You do.”

“Harry you can’t!”

The shout erupted from his irate dorm mate, justifiably irate but dangerous all the same. Giving Narcissa an apologetic look she nodded her head in understanding as Harry turned to the crowd.

Deans cheeks had reddened, and he looked fit to blow while the rest of the crowd eyed him warily. He met Hermione’s eyes and she searched his gaze, finding something that Harry wasn’t even sure what she nodded. The motion agreeing with and giving support to whatever action he took. He had never been more thankful for her than in that moment.

Taking in a deep breath Harry spoke.

“During this war I accrued two life debts to the Malfoy family. One when Draco refused to identify me, allowing my escape from his family’s manor. The second in the forest when Lady Malfoy lied to the Dark Lord about my… status which allowed me to return to the fight. Which allowed this battle to end. I intend to honour those debts as the last thing we need against us now is magic herself.”

Dean looked fit to blow as Hermione interrupted before he could spew whatever anger fuelled statements his grief-ridden mind could come up with.

His friend advanced forward standing opposed to the Malfoy lord taking his gaze unfaltering, the Lord facing her with a neutral expression.

“The castle has no current master there is no sanctuary here.” The surprise that lit the Lord's face was quickly suppressed as he eyed the muggle-born girl with slight confusion and a little appreciation. Harry had to stifle a laugh.

“Then I ask sanctuary from the leader for my family.”

His best friend eyed the Lord speculatively before asking in a quiet tone. “And what of yourself?”

Lucius dropped his gaze and Harry almost, almost gaped at the sight. “My sins Miss Granger are many, and I would not attempt to ask for mercy, merely my freely given surrender in exchange for my family’s safety.

Hermione eyed the lord speculatively before shifting her gaze back to Harry, a glint in her eye that Harry wouldn’t dare to argue with. A small smile tugged on to the woman’s lips as he gave a nod, agreeing to whatever idiotic but ultimately inspired plan his best friend had come up with.

“It would seem Lord Malfoy that we will not be able to honour such an agreement.” Steel grey eyes, hard and calculating shot up to meet Hermione’s amused ones but before he could speak Hermione continued on, “Do not misunderstand me, Mr Malfoy, your wife and son’s safety will be assured, the life debts will cover that and Harry the honourable fool that he is will see to it that they are fulfilled. So, I can take your surrender, but you will not receive anything in return.” The Malfoy Lord watched Hermione with such fascination and confusion, Harry could even see McGonagall who had finally made her way towards the ruckus, hold back a smile.

The Malfoy Lord opened his mouth to speak once again, but Hermione merely rolled over him, interrupting once again.

“But I think, Lord Malfoy we can do better than a mere surrender, we are in a time of war after all, and the leaders of each faction hold powers of their own, especially if they hold a stronghold such as Hogwarts.” Comprehension dawned in the Malfoy Lords’ eyes before his gaze once more turned critical.

“For the leader of a faction to even consider such an offer against a war criminal would be highly generous, especially with the conditions and alliance I believe you are offering Miss Granger.”

The witches answering grin was nothing less than victorious as she all but purred, “Oh Mr Malfoy, such a deal would come with many strings and services, perhaps we should see your wife to the infirmary and negotiate?” The Malfoy Lord stood watching his friend and Harry was on the edge of intervening, the entire hall silently watching the exchange. But before the tension built too high the Malfoy Lord bowed low in acceptance before turning and picking his wife up from the staircase. Stunned at the interaction Harry almost jumped out of his skin when Draco came up beside him, one question on his lips. “Since when has Granger spoken pureblood?”

Harry snorted surveying the reactions of the room, seeing that Neville was attending to Dean and McGonagall was herding the rest of the students towards the dining hall, Harry turned toward the infirmary the Malfoy heir on his heels.

“One thing you should have learnt by now Malfoy, never underestimate Hermione Jean Granger and her pursuit of knowledge.”

***

_Durham -09/02/2001_

The signal came, it came, and it was as much a relief as a curse. The stranger was still here fighting, but whatever civilians were with him had been port keyed away and were safely deposited within the safe house, one of his company re-joining the fray while the other remained with the rescued.

Harry wasn’t complaining at the man’s presence. He had taken down two of his stalkers who had gotten close and was well on his way to dropping a third. His fighting style was decidedly muggle however the flashes of spell light that emanated from his direction confirmed that he was indeed a wizard.

With the confirmation that innocents were no longer part of the battlefield, his team stopped holding back. Two of his team worked flawlessly, conjuring and directing fiend fyre towards their enemy, while the gingers advanced, back to back, the male shielding and distracting, while his sister began sending out more and more violent offensive curses, that the Death Eaters usually liked to use. The other three had taken a back seat, well not really, from a position on the roofs they sent spell after spell towards their enemy taking out one after another, and making and efficient nuisance of themselves. Harry could see the moment Bellatrix comprehended exactly who they were fighting, the shock and slight fear that took over her features was not ever a thing the young leader would have ever thought to marvel at, but it sent a thrill through him. She shrieked her displeasure and finally joined the fray herself, meeting the leader head-on in a clash of raw magic and half-formed spells.

***

_Hogwarts- 24/05/1998_

Narcissa withered.

Poppy did all that she could, Severus directing his godson from his hospital bed enabling him to brew a stagnating potion which halted the poisons spread. But as the weeks passed and those of the injured began to heal, Narcissa withered.

The elegant woman who stood tall in the battle was barely recognisable by the end, small and frail in her bed, she could barely sit up and speak, her husband and son barely leaving her side.

As morbid as the sight was, it was the motivator for many in accepting the Malfoy men into the fold. A fact Narcissa knew and was the reason she allowed the two to prolong her life. Ever calculating even in her last days. She and Dumbledore would have got on.

She had glared at him for that comment.

They had been alone, Severus having finally risen from his enforced convalescence, had dragged the other two blondes away, to give her a moment of peace. But Harry had to ask, it would be his last chance to either way.

“Why?”

The witch twitched a brow in question and Harry reddened at the implied criticism. “Why did you lie?”

Relaxing back into the cushions that propped her up, she had watched him for a moment before sighing, a small sad smile gracing her features, softening it despite its gaunt appearance.

“Child, I could give you a litany of reasons, of how I have watched my son become a shell of himself, of how my husband has been tortured, of how I have watched my home fall into the hands of such darkness that not even I could still see the beauty of it. Yet they all come down to the same thing, the same reason your mother gave her life all those years ago.”

“Love,” Harry responded, still confused and unsure as to what the matriarch actually meant.

It must have shown on his expression as her eyes soften further.

“If I had told the truth, where would we be? In the same place as before the battle, my son and husband withering, holding on to life and surviving, but scared to live.” The woman sighed her eyes averted and staring out of the infirmary window. “I have seen my son smile more in the last couple of weeks, than in the last couple of years. And that of all things tells me I made the right decision as no parent would suffer their children a half-life, and though at your side his life may be short, he will at least live.”

Watching her, Harry couldn't help the admiration that bloomed within him.

“I wish I could have known you better, Mrs Malfoy”

The woman chuckled in response her eyes alight with a mischievous twinkle.

“Ah, that would have given my dear Lucius a heart attack, the boy saviour cosying up to the purebloods wife. It would be quite the story”

“The Daily Prophet would love us”

“And Witch Weekly would tell such tales and grieve for the loss of their saviour.”

She died. 

Less than three days later, Narcissa Malfoy slipped away in Hogwarts infirmary, peacefully in a dreamless sleep, she finally succumbed to Bellatrix’s curse.

***

_Durham -09/02/2001_

The green-eyed man felt the gash on his shoulder, it was a glancing blow, and if not for the research their dragon and research core had put in, in those first weeks after the battle. It would have been fatal.

Bellatrix was snarling at him, her focus so directed at him she hadn’t realised her group was now outnumbered. Their positions reversed as his own and the stranger circled the group, now on the complete defensive.

It was then their Dragon came to his side, his ice-blue eyes so like his mothers fierce and demanding, how could he refuse them?

Stepping away from the fray, Bellatrix went to advance, only to halt her step as the blond removed his hood. Facing his insane relative for the first time in almost three years.

A cackle erupted from the insane witch, as the blonde’s eyes turned glacial, and focused. Occlumency and rage working in tandem as he began his attack, fire and ice and spellfire spiralling towards his mother’s murderer.

The leader focussed on taking out the remnants of their foes, only numbering five now, as they panicked realising the futility of their situation and becoming all the more dangerous for it. After all, there was nothing more dangerous than a wounded animal.

It was while the leader was distracted detaining one of the last of their enemy’s that their Dragon landed the final blow.

The woman fell in a silent scream, so unlike how she lived, the only thing to sound being the soft crunch of her form as she hit the road.

***

_Hogwarts- 21/05/1998_

The Ministry had come during that time. The battle having caused such substantial losses for the dark, they could not retain their hold over the neutrals and politicians.

It was Fudge who came, an interim minister, of all people?

He had walked into the war zone all political bluster, empty promises and greedy eyes. Harry had been called to meet him in the atrium, the last of the light not allowing the man or his guard any further into their domain.

He had straightened at the sight of Harry, Draco who had been watching from the staircases’ laughed for many years over their interaction. Harry had descended, silent as the grave they stood in, all too aware of the deaths that had occurred on the very spot the would-be leader of the wizarding world stood. While the potbellied politician yammered on with the, my boys, and jovial whims that were such a false imitation of his once mentor.

The man began to sweat as he continued talking filling the silence Harry maintained under the critical eyes of the castles inhabitance. It was only when he stood directly opposite the politician that the man got to the point of his and the Ministry’s overdue visit and intervention.

“Well my boy, considering the victory and the end of the war, myself and my colleagues here are to see the transfer of war criminals and death eaters in your custody.

Harry wished he had been surprised by the Minister’s statement, but he had lived through Fudge's brand of denial once, it would not surprise him a second time. The crowd’s reaction, however, was another matter.

Their shouts filled the silence, yet for once they stood on his side. Condemning the Ministry and its foolishness. These were no longer naive children to be drawn in by hopes and white lies, they had all seen too much, and experienced horrors Cornelius had fled from. Raising a brow at the Minister who had been shocked by the clamour, he raised a hand to silence them. The command was immediately followed as the would-be leader of the magical world’s eyes met his once again, filled with contempt and fear.

“Cornelius, I am afraid any reports of this war being over have been wildly exaggerated. We may have won the battle here, but the war is far from over.”

It was not the Interim Minister who reacted first rather one of his lackeys who raised his wand toward Harry. He didn’t get far before a student, one of the younger claws if Harry remembered correctly disarmed him as the entire hall aimed their wands at the fool.

Harry thought he should have been surprised by this yet since the battle, he had been given an alarming amount of deference from the inhabitance of the castle barring a few exceptions of course. Still in this, even those who held their reservation about his ascension to leadership had reacted.

Lifting a hand the Claw came to him, Raina Jakins she would have been a fifth-year had the castle still served as a school, she handed him the wand with a timid smile which Harry returned before he indicated for her to stand behind him. He returned his attention to the group, the idiots wand in hand. They were all struck silent at the sight of so many hostile gazes. This had not been the reception they had been expecting.

“When meeting with people who have suffered almost a year of torture and a magical siege, you may wish to consider whether raising your wand would be a wise decision.” He through the wand back to the wizard with little care, which the man barely caught but Harry returned his attention to the once again reddening Fudge.

“Now you see here young man, we are the Ministry and you must respect our authority, the Ministry stands and to return to any sort of normalcy you as a citizen must obey the law. Now hand over the war criminals Severus Snape and Lucius Malfoy and allow us entry to meet with the Headmistress.”

Silence reigned once again as the students eyed the fool with incredulity and contempt. Harry was tempted to let them have at it; it may have been good therapy for them after all… But then would that make them any better than the Death Eaters? He was not equipped to deal with this, but if he bowed out now, any credibility he had with what remained of the Ministry, the public, hell his people within the castle would be lost. And they couldn’t afford that. Not now.

“The Ministry crumbled, Cornelius and Hogwarts does not recognise your position. Besides that there is no Headmistress, the person who currently holds the title of master of this castle is one you named a war criminal, incorrectly so but I can forgive you that much, his story has not yet been widely circulated. As for Lord Malfoy, he has entered an alliance oath with the leaders of the light and is therefore untouchable until this war is over. And Cornelius” Harry paused making sure he had the entire halls complete attention, “You have denied my words once and the magical world almost crumbled, think twice before you do so again.”

Allowing that to sink in Harry turned from the crowd and ascended the stairs once again before giving his parting remark.

“I suggest you begin rebuilding your Ministry Minister, or go back to France, either way, the DA will see you to the ward boundary”

He may have vomited after that encounter.

***

_Durham -09/02/2001_

Silence descended on the road, they had done it, they had won this skirmish.

Bellatrix was dead, over twenty Death Eaters with her and they had their captive. Taking in a breath the raven-haired leader centred himself once again, glad that he would not need to report any failures or fatalities this night. Turning to his team who were in the process of recovering themselves he could only see minor injuries, though the siblings both looked a little more worse for wear, a bit of rest and time under Brown's ministrations and they would be fine.

“Pyro and Galahad, if you would.” The two nodded in understanding, approaching the captive and port keying away to a safe zone where a certain once Lord would divulge the poor sod of all his secrets.

Turning to the stranger he met guarded yet respectful eyes, the Leader could not help but return the respect. Allowing himself to relax for but a moment, he allowed a smile to grace his lips as he approached the stranger.

“I must say, I have yet to meet another who could ire the Dark Lord almost as much as I.” Up close the leader could see under the other man’s hood, he was met with exhausted blue eyes and dirty blonde hair.

“What can I say, I live to please?!” He was unsure whether that was humour or hysteria, the man looked about ready to fall over his own feet.

“We have been following you and your dependants for the past week, I apologise we have not been able to catch on or catch up sooner.”

“I don’t know whether to take that as a compliment or to criticise your technique.” Humour that was definitely humour. The green-eyed man could work with that.

Raising his wandless hand, he dropped his hood, dropping away his anonymity at last. Before stretching the same hand toward the now wide-eyed stranger, his green eyes sparkling with anticipation. 

“My name is Harry Potter; it is very good to make your acquaintance Mr.?”

“Barton,” the man clasped his hand, confident and with vague recognition, “Clint Barton.”


	2. Bartons Tale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> and here comes the gratuitous use of artistic license- sorry, not sorry...
> 
> Enjoy!

_Durham -09/02/01_

Lena was screaming and Nathan was crying but Clint couldn’t stop, couldn’t comfort them, not yet.

It had been close, so close, too close. When the Death Eater had flung the spell at Lena, it was all he could do to throw the girl out of the way, the spell light catching the bag rather than his younger cousin. She was in pain now and as much as Clint felt guilty for causing it, it could have been so much worse had the curse hit. Hushing them he had run, leaving the backpack in the alley, he didn’t know enough magic to know if they could track it and what remained of his younger cousins’ possessions was not worth their lives.

He had one job, one responsibility, it was the only thing his uncle Arnie had ever asked of him. To protect them, but he was going to fail. There were too many of them, and he couldn’t focus. It had been weeks since he had properly slept, days since he had had more than a single protein bar as they ran. He was exhausted and out of options.

Noticing an alcove, he pushed the two in hushing them. They couldn’t outrun them, he could only stand and fight. It was his only choice.

The Death Eaters knew no mercy, they would not accept surrender, especially after the number he had killed. He could escape… him alone…

No, he would stand, and fight and hope for a miracle. After all, it was the only way they were escaping this. And he was only escaping this with them.

***

_Leeds Bradford Airport- 02/06/95_

He and his brother had flown.

On a plane across the ocean, he and his brother had flown, and Clint had never felt anything more exhilarating. The rumble of the tracks, the sight of clouds as the plane swirled up into them, and then the clear open sky, uncorrupted and beautiful blue as far as the eye could see.

They were being taken to an uncle apparently, his big brother had explained it to him. He was only three years older but the adult seemed to like telling him things first. Clint couldn’t understand why they hadn’t spoken to the both of them, it's not like he couldn't understand things as well as his brother. He just wouldn’t talk back. He didn’t speak to adults. As much as they tried to get him to speak to them, Clint knew better. He knew nothing good came when he spoke to adults, so he didn’t.

Standing in the airport, Leeds, he thought the lady with them had called it, they were waiting for this uncle who was going to take care of them now. After their dad had… well the adults around them finally helped, finally looked past the end of their noses. It was too little too late, his big brother would never be able to use his bow again, never be able to move it the way it should. So he had given it to Clint. It was the only thing he had wanted to keep. Though the adults had packed him a bag of clothes and things, they didn’t matter, not really. No, his bow, his brothers before him was all he cared about.

It was then he saw him. The man they had been shown pictures of who was apparently was their mothers’ brother. Arnold Smith was not a tall man, nor was he short, like the boys and their mother he had dirty blonde hair, but unlike them, his eyes were a warm hazel, they were kind eyes. That and the man walked with a cane, was he hurt?

Clint didn’t know, he didn’t know this man but now they were meant to stay with him. Feeling nervous, the eleven-year-old hid behind his brother watching and waiting for the new chapter of his life to begin.

*** 

_Durham -09/02/01_

He didn’t know where they had come from, but they were his miracle. Black cloaked faceless figures. At first, he had thought they were death eater reinforcements. But then they began to attack the death eaters. They seemed to have flown over the roof taking out six of his attackers, quick, quiet, and without mercy. Clint was awed by them, by the way they moved and fought. He could only observe them for a moment before focussing back on his own fight. He had hope, he had his miracle, now he had to make the most of it.

With a renewed vigour and focus, he slammed his bow out hitting the one closest to him, allowing the limited magic he had to increase the force far above what the weapon should be capable of inflicting. He got lucky hitting the side of the man's head, wrenching it back and effectively snapping the wizard's neck, while sending a concussive force outwards pushing his attackers back.

The strange group had lured the majority of the group away, leaving him with four to deal with. He could do this, he would do this. Thankfully the group had pulled back realising that he was not against making this a physical fight. Wizards were like that. Not that it would help them. Taking an arrow from his quiver, its body wrapped in thestral hair he fought back, notching the arrow and firing, all the while avoiding spellfire and drawing the group away from the children, from his cousins.

He could do this. He would do this. After all, he had to make Uncle Arnie proud.

***

_Smitan Farm, Low Laith – 12/05/96_

It didn’t take long for his uncle to realise that strange things happened around Clint. Almost a year in fact. Though the boy supposed that was because his younger cousins also did strange things. Well at least Nathan did.

Clint tried to control it, as it didn’t happen very often. But often enough.

He had caught him out when Clint was in the orchard, he and his brother had been picking up the debris from the recent storm, while the younger kids and their uncle's wife, Aunt Sarah were clearing the front yard.

The wind was still a bit gusty but not too bad and it wasn’t raining, unlike the rest of the time. That was one thing his brother always complained about, but Clint didn’t mind it. He liked how it was different. It reminded him he wasn’t back there.

It was when they were picking up a bit of usable tinder that it happened. His uncle later told him that the storm must have damaged the trees more than he had thought, effectively snapping it until it was holding on by the smallest joint and supported by another branch. A gale passed over them causing both of the boys to pause and pull their jackets closer against it only for an almighty snap to sound above them. Clint looked up at the branch only for the world to slow around him as he watched. His uncle called it adrenaline, that his body went into what he would later come to understand was called a hypersensitive state. Not that it mattered not then. All he could see was the branch falling and heading directly for his brother.

He didn’t think, he just reacted allowing the strange thing inside him out obliterating the thing above his brother showering the two in splinters but allowing the two of them to come out of it relatively unharmed.

Breathing deeply as if he had just run a mile Clint looked to his brother who wasn’t looking at him. Rather he was looking beyond him with a concerned expression on his face. Worried Clint turned, only to freeze understanding his brothers worry as his uncle Arnie was standing there, a dumbstruck look on his face.

His brother moved before Clint thought to, placing himself between him and his uncle. They knew what happened when he did something strange. And though Nathan may do them too there was no guarantee that his uncle would not react like their father.

His uncle had brought them in after that. Giving them both hot chocolate before sitting at the table watching them before sighing, pulling out a stick from his sleeve. Clint had seen it before, had noticed it around the house but he had never asked. Even now he knew it wasn’t good to question the adult in power.

Eyeing them both he watched his uncle flick the stick only for the books on the end of the table to hover. Wide-eyed Clint looked from the books to his uncle and back again until his gaze met his brothers, who was just as confused as Clint was.

“I am a wizard.” His brother has scoffed before arguing with his uncle about the stupidity of that statement but Clint zoned out, staring at the books. His uncle could do strange things too, maybe just maybe he wasn’t a freak after all. If his uncle and cousin could do strange things… maybe he was a wizard too?

Looking back to his uncle his eyes glazed over with tears and relief. If they were like him maybe they wouldn’t hurt him for it. Before he could stop it, Clint asked a question.

“Am I a wizard too?” His words were quiet almost non-existent, but both members of his family froze in shock, his brother in bewilderment that he had spoken to an adult at all.

Holding his uncle's gaze he watched as a small smile spread over his uncle's face, his eyes as warm and as kind, as they had been on the first day he had met him.

“Not quite Clint, but you are close, so drink your hot chocolate and I will explain.” Nodding Clint picked the cup up taking a sip as the two sat and listened to their uncle.

***

_Durham – 09/02/01_

Clint had gotten them away from the alcove.

They were so focussed on him; they hadn’t noticed what he was doing. His focus was almost taken when he saw two of the other cloaked figures approach the alcove. They looked like the ones who were fighting the death eater’s, but Clint was on the verge of panic only for one of them to lower their hood. 

It was a witch with hair so blond it seemed almost white in the moon's light. He felt his mind being invaded. No invaded was too harsh a word but Clint couldn’t stop it, as he met the soft gaze of the witch as a voice echoed through his mind.

“Calm Archer, we are members of the alliance, we will take the children to safety.” Clint had to make a choice. A choice as to whether to trust in this miracle… it had only been the family for so long and now it was only him, could he trust them, should he? A spell whizzed past his head has his movements slowed. He didn’t have a choice, not really. There was no way he was going to get back to them without alerting his opponents, he would have to trust them. Nodding slightly, he focused back on his fight. Two of them had taken advantage of his blind spot or at least they thought they had. Striking out once again he took the wizard out behind him sending a concussive blast of his magic, followed up by a thestral arrow to the heart of the man’s back up. He only had two to go.

Thrusting himself back into the fight he could only hope he had made the right decision.

***

_Smitan Farm, Low Laith - 11/09/97_

His uncle had said he was not quite a wizard. Though he had the power of one his core seemed to be damaged so he couldn’t control it the way most wizards would.

The magical world, because apparently, that was a thing, would call him a squib though his uncle disagreed. He explained that Lena was a squib, of how she had a magical core, but it was small and had no connection through which she could use her magic. He had a core and was connected to it, just differently. He was unique. Clint had not been sure how he felt about that.

At thirteen, two years since they had arrived in England Clint learnt many lessons, he would go to school like his brother but on the weekends and on the holidays, his uncle would give him other lessons.

They had been told when they arrived that their uncle had been injured while serving in the military. And that was true though it was not the military they had thought it was. Apparently, his uncle had worked for what he called the ICW as a soldier, he was injured in Argentina when his reinforcements were delayed due to bad information and he was left with an injury for too long, an injury he would never truly recover from despite his access to magic.

He had taught Clint how to focus his magic, showed him how he was already doing it internally with his archery. It was why he never missed. He internally focussed his magic to his eyes allowing him to see further, to notice more. He connected to the air currents and he instinctively understood them, well his magic did at least, and his brain translated it into visual information.

His uncle had attempted to get him a wand however the wand maker… Oliver something turned them away, his eyes misty, and his voice certain that no wand would ever work for Clint.

He had been disheartened by that at first, but his uncle had worked with him tirelessly, teaching him the laws of magic.

And today he had accomplished something, something even his uncle hadn’t thought possible.

He had been allowed to go through his uncle’s books, to read and learn on the days it was too rainy or windy to practice outside. He had found a book, a book on Animagi. The entire concept had fascinated him and he had been enraptured by the thought of being able to change into an animal. Using his allowance, he had owl ordered the revelation potion and everything else he needed. His uncle had warned him not to get his hopes up, that although he had the power for it he may not have enough of a connection to his magic to make it work.

But Clint had been convinced. And today he had completed it. Sitting on the balcony railing he stretched his arms, well not arms any more, but wings. He felt the air currents ripple around him as he focused on the trees in the distance. It was hilarious really; he knew his brother would get a chuckle from it at least. He had always said he had the eyes of a hawk after all. 

***

_Durham -09/02/01_

He wasn’t sure what heralded the change in the others, but it was as if a switch had been flicked, the already formidable force seemed to let go. They became ridiculously efficient in their spell casting, no longer holding back. Fighting still Clint didn’t have time to truly marvel at the sight as his two once again became four.

Fighting he could hear the shriek of the mad haired cackling woman, he thought may have been Bellatrix, but he wasn’t sure. Coming closer and chasing down the wizards into close combat Clint fought, catching glimpses of the black-haired woman facing off against a blonde man who could only be a couple of years older than him.

The end of the fight came suddenly. His last falling not long before the mad witch.

The silence that followed was odd, and broken only by the panting breaths of the force that saved him. Facing the group Clint could only survey the carnage the fight had wrought. Spell damage littered the walls, the bodies of the death eater strewn about like marionettes with their strings cut, only some were charred beyond recognition, and his own covered in more blood than the rest combined. 

Well, he fought better that way.

Taking a breath, Clint lowered his bow. He wouldn’t defeat these people in a fight, he was exhausted, mentally, physically and now magically. And they had his cousins. He needed to hold on to that hope. That trust he had put in them. He stood waiting, watching, and praying to magic herself he had made the right decision.

***

_Smitan Farm, Low Laith- 03/12/00_

The house was burning.

His uncle had warned him when he turned fifteen that there was trouble brewing in the magical world. That they had to be prepared because although they were hidden, although they were out of the public eye, they may be targeted. His uncle had pulled them from school his brother coming home from basic to help protect the family.

They lived in a secluded area already, and his uncle limited how often they left the farm. He had been preparing Clint for the past two years as Hogwarts fought and fell and the Ministry rose just to fall once again. They considered leaving the country, but the borders were being watched. No, they had to remain in hiding and hope the war would end before they were found.

Clint had been astounded to find out about the war, about the fight that went on while the world was ignorant. He listened to the wizarding wireless, waiting for any sign that it may be over or getting closer. His brother had been training him in the martial arts he had begun when they had moved to England, while his uncle trained him in magical and muggle warfare, explaining how sometimes the most mundane thing could throw off a pure-blooded wizard.

They always had a bag packed, each going to bed prepared. Prepared for the war to reach them.

And now the house was burning.

Grabbing his duffle, quiver and bow Clint moved, running into Nathans room and grabbing the seven-year-old and his backpack, hoping his brother was collecting Lena.

Leaving the house, he felt the heat burn behind him, it was too hot, moving to quickly to be a normal fire. He almost sighed in relief when he saw the rest of his family heading for the wood. They had all made it out. Focussing on his own task he grabbed his young cousin and ran. Only for a scream to ring through the air. Clint almost stopped, almost turned back. But that was the one thing his uncle had drummed into him. Get the children to safety. Everything else was secondary, get them out. Closing his eyes and allowing his magic to guide him Clint ran, heading towards the old well at the edge of the property.

Panting Clint reached the well first. They couldn’t wait long. His brother arrived next, Lena crying into his shoulder. She was eleven now, still so young and Clint couldn't help the sigh of relief that the scream hadn’t been from her. Only for guilt to rise that it must have been his aunt.

No.

No, he couldn’t focus on that, no matter what his aunt would have wanted her children away from this, from it all. They would wait, five more minutes, that was all, five minutes and then they would run, whether his uncle or aunt was here or not. Meeting his brothers gaze, he looked as focussed as he was, Glock in his free hand.

Putting Nathan down Clint took his bow in hand and notched an arrow as they waited, counting down the seconds.

A snap sounded to their left and Clint’s head whipped around, only to hear a shout from his brother. Turning. He met the shocked eyes of his brother as he pushed Lena away as he fell, blood saturating the back of his shirt. Just like when he was a child and the branch fell. Clint didn’t think. He just reacted as his eyes landed on a grinning man, dressed in rags and holding a wand aloft. He let loose his arrow, striking the man clean through the neck, sending him tumbling to the ground, choking on his own blood. Clint thought he should feel something. He had just killed a man but he didn’t, he couldn’t, he didn’t have time to wonder on the corruption that now would inhabit his soul. His brother had just been murdered in front of him, falling to the ground, his eyes turning vacant…

No, he stepped forward grabbed Lena who was crying hysterically pulling her to him in a quick embrace before grabbing both of his young cousin's hands and turning to run.

Only to come face to face with another snarling wizard. But before he could think to fight, he heard a shout emanate from his left. The same place he had heard the snap. A flash of spell light sped past him, crashing into the wizard tossing him back into the woods. Turning Clint came face to face with his uncle who was limping toward him his arms outstretched. Clint barely had time to take in his uncles form before he reached him.

“Don’t let go of the children!” Before Clint knew what was happening he felt as if he were being pulled through a straw as they were pulled away from his first true home.

***

_Durham_ - _09/02/01_

“Pyro and Galahad, if you would” one of the figures asked. Two of the others nodded before advancing on a kneeling figure Clint had yet to notice. His eyes were defiant, yet even without his advanced eyesight, Clint could see the fear that clung to him now. Before he could ask, the two had gripped the man and port keyed away.

Focussing now on the one who spoke, Clint couldn’t help but to evaluate the situation. His uncle had always told him to take on every detail he could manage, the more he knew, the better he was able to plan. There seemed to be seven of them including the two who had just left. Only the blonde man was without his hood and he was staring down still at the corpse of the black witch. It would be disturbing if Clint hadn’t done it himself on occasion. When the fight was done and he had to collect himself. Centring himself, though wanting nothing more than to hide and speak to no one, Clint refocused his gaze on the speaker.

As the cloaked figure turned back to him, he couldn't help but feel slightly disturbed by the complete lack of a face, as if his eyes couldn't focus on the interior of the hood, and only blank space stood in its place. It was a complex bit of magic if nothing else, Clint’s eyes only picking up on the hint of green that was probably from the man's eyes. The man seemed to relax slightly, allowing a bit of the tension to drop from his shoulders as he approached.

“I must say, I have yet to meet another who could ire the Dark Lord almost as much as I.” He was close enough to see Clint now, and he knew it. There was no hiding from this wizard and if he were honest Clint was tired of hiding. If they were going to kill him, they probably would have left him to the death eaters. So, he leant back on what he knew, what he and his brother had shared. Snark.

“What can I say, I live to please?!” The tone was not as strong as he would have liked but hey he made an attempt!

The man ignored the comment, ploughing on and not commenting on the humour or his tone, and he couldn’t work out whether he was grateful for that or not.

“We have been following you and your dependants for the past week, I apologise we have not been able to catch on or catch up sooner.” Hah, hilarious. Of course, they hadn’t, Clint had been hiding their tracks, if he hadn’t the death eaters would have been able to accomplish this weeks ago. Not that they would have thought to send this many weeks ago. Clint didn’t even think about the retort, just allowed his mouth to run away from him, his mind too tired to contemplate the consequences.

“I don’t know whether to take that as a compliment or to criticise your technique”

The man raised his hand and Clint felt his body tense, only for the man to drop his hood. And Clint knew that face. Hell, the entire wizarding world knew that face and it hadn’t aged a day since he had first seen it when he was fifteen on the wanted posters. If he weren’t so exhausted, he would have jumped for joy, the kids would be safe, his cousins were fine because their miracle, their saviour was none other than Harry Bloody Potter. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Late because work was long and life is hard and my grammar is appalling 90% of the time... 
> 
> thoughts?


	3. Sancuatry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lol so I skipped a week but I give you your latest update!!!!!
> 
> Enjoy!

_Safehouse -09/02/2001_

“Lena, Nathan!” The stranger Clint shouted as the two children he had sent Luna to rescue ran towards him with their own shouts of Joy and relief. Harry let them have the moment, allowing his gaze to survey the group. They didn’t seem to have been on the run for that long… well not as long as most had been, which was curious. That and Clint didn’t seem to have a wand, yet he swore he had seen spell light coming from him. Looking over to Luna, who just shrugged her shoulders which almost had him falling back in shock. There weren’t many things Luna didn’t know. 

Curious now, Harry refocused his attention on the stranger, who was whispering to the children at his side, a hand on each of their shoulders. The man’s gaze flicked up towards him, it was filled with both gratitude and fear. Right being in a room with six strange and dangerous wizards with only a vague reassurance of protection was probably not making him very comfortable. Pulling himself together Harry made a decision. 

“All but Moon and Meadow return home, I expect to see a medical report for each of you by the time I get back,” a couple of his people opened their mouths to argue as they always did. Harry let a small smile slip on to his lips as his eyes shone with mischief. “Well it’s that or I will put you on goafer duty for Nym for the next two weeks.” That shut all of them up, Draco going so far as to shiver theatrically in fear of the threat. “Oh, and inform Pyro and Galahad of the same.” With a nod from River, the three unneeded members apparated away into the tender care of miss Lavender Brown.

Meadow just shook her head at him before turning on their small group of rescuees.

“Ignore our glorious leader and his dramatics, My name is Astoria and I am the team's field medic, do you mind if I cast a quick diagnostic charm over the three of you?” Harry rolled his eyes but continued to watch the wizard for his reaction. He looked confused than concerned, meeting the pleading eyes of the young girl before slumping his shoulders in resignation. He looked back up his tone steady and certain.

“It should be fine for Nathan however Lena here is a squib and no one’s particularly sure what I am, so I don’t know how such a spell would react.”

“Curiouser and curiouser,” Luna spoke in her usual airy tone and Harry couldn’t help snorting in response. The man, no on closer inspection he looked like a kid, tensed as if he were gearing up for a fight but Harry raised his hand to him meeting Luna's gaze. “I think we have fallen far past the looking glass Alice.” Her gaze met his own clearing for a moment as she spoke her next words.

“It is not often the nargles don’t inform me something is coming, something powerful and protective that even now the heliopaths are silent to my questions.” Well, that was a sobering thought. Astoria coughed lightly to get everyone’s attention and break the awkward silence, before smiling at the strangers.

“It shouldn’t be a problem, I’ll use a diagnostic that pulls on my own magic rather than yours, it’s just as effective on muggles as it is on wizards?” Hesitantly the man nodded, and Astoria didn’t give him a chance to change his mind, casting the first charm on him.

Looking over him she tutted in admonishment, before turning her head in curiosity and confusion.

After a minute the man began to fidget under Astoria’s gaze, looking awkward and uncomfortable. Harry couldn’t help the small smile as he cleared his throat pulling Astoria out of her study. Clearing her throat, Astoria’s cheeks pinked slightly as she centred herself. Giving the boy an embarrassed smile.

“Apologies, your core is rather unique, it’s almost as powerful as our Harrys but it doesn’t connect in the same way, sorry I was a Ravenclaw, I couldn’t help myself. Anyway, physically speaking you have a few cuts and scrapes but no major damage. Although I would the mediwitch to take a look at your left leg, there seems to be the start of an infection under an old wound, but a couple cleaning spells, perhaps an immunity-boosting draught and a couple of full nights of sleep should see you in perfect health, if I may continue?” The stranger looked mildly shocked by the announcements and Astoria didn’t wait for his confirmations continuing on and casting the charms on the children in quick succession.

The witch hummed in consideration as she took in their results before turning back to the strange man. “They are both perfectly fine, just mild malnourishment and exhaustion, they are in much better condition than you at least.” Harry had to withhold the chuckle at Astoria’s chiding tone. The man blushed slightly but held firm. Yeah, Harry was going to get along well with this one. 

“Well then, we had better get down to business, Mr Barton.”

“Clint.” The young man interrupted before blushing once more, Harry just smiled a sharp little smile.

“As you will, Clint you have two choices before you. The first is our assistance in escaping the country however once we get you across the channel we will not be able to offer you further aid and the ICW has been reticent in their acceptance of refugees as of late, but we can get you there.” He paused there, as this was where most would jump on the opportunity to leave, the boy, man oh Harry couldn’t decide which was more fitting, just how old was this guy?

“Or?” Clint asked with an air of challenge.

“Or you can seek refuge in our camp. We cannot guarantee the war will never find us there, however, we have been highly efficient in hiding our residence. Though if you choose this route unless you join the alliance in some capacity other than refugee you will not be able to leave until this conflict is over.” The young man… maybe… anyway he eyed him with a critical look.

“You would keep us hostage?”

Harry couldn’t help it, he scoffed. “Hardly, well just a little perhaps. It’s a security measure, non-combatants are not authorized to leave the base as a security measure, so no one can betray the camp, nor will they be targeted for information on our base. It is for our good as well as those who we protect, and that, Clint, is non-negotiable.” The man held his gaze for a moment before it settled on his two dependants. And Harry felt for him, he was young, man or boy and these children were his responsibility. It was a lot to ask, this amount of trust, but Harry had his own dependants, an entire camp of refugee’s and the alliance itself, he couldn’t risk them. He wouldn’t.

Clint's eyes met his own once again, “Will they be safe?”

Harry smiled self depreciatingly, “As safe as they can be while this war rages.”

The man sighed before nodding, “We’ll take the second option then, we have no funds and no allies or family outside of the UK, If the ICW are being as reticent as you say and if my uncle's tales were anything to go by, that is completely believable, you are our best option.”

Stunned slightly by the man’s words, the awkward silence was broken by Astoria’s warm laughter, her eyes filled with mirth as they met his own. “Well with that ringing endorsement, we had better be off, don’t you think, oh glorious leader?”

Shaking his head at the witches antics he stepped forward grasping a hand on the man's shoulder, while the girls took hold of the children, the man looked shocked by the quick movement though before he could recover himself to protest Harry just smiled, “Don’t puke on my robes.” And with that, the trio and their cargo apparated away.

***

_Hogwarts -23/09/1998_

The wards hadn’t fallen. It had been two weeks since the dark had regained itself enough to launch an attack on the castle but in the time leading up to the attack, the order and the army had worked tirelessly in order to strengthen and fix the wards of Hogwarts. As cold as it may sound, Harry had never been so grateful for Bill Weasley to have survived the first battle, because, without him, he very much believed that they would never have been able to rebuild enough of them to have even stood for this long. Severus had not fully recovered and had agreed to pass over control of the ward Nexus to the eldest Weasley, whose wife had relocated to Hogwarts after an attack on Shell cottage. Those Death Eaters had regretted attacking the once Triwizard champion very quickly.

Bill with Fillius’ and Harry's assistance had been able to rebuild the siege wards, while utilising Harry’s newfound magical strength to dial them up to the tenth degree, while Filius revealed more in-depth knowledge, usually kept from wizards, on goblin wards. The once professor had parted with those secrets quickly after the battle but only with Bill and Harry himself. With most of the British conclave left for dead in the wake of the Dark Lord’s rage, the small professor no longer cared for the ramification’s of giving up such information, especially in the protection of the children of Hogwarts and the last of the light. McGonagall led the reconstruction efforts, though rather than the castle itself her force of seventh years and order members gifted in transfiguration had set about mending and re-enchanting the guardians of Hogwarts, who now stood on the ward line ready and waiting for any attempts on the castle they protected.

Horace, much to Snape’s comical despair was leading the effort in restocking the infirmary with the aid of the most adept potioneers the school had to offer, while the aforementioned dungeon bat set about brewing battle and focus potions with the aid of George Weasley, the only dunderhead he thought to be anywhere near capable and imaginative enough to be able to keep up with him. The distraction had helped the distraught twin who took to the creations with more malicious delight than Harry liked to think about. And now he could not be anything but thankful for their efforts, with their creations from the Weasley original swamps to the rivers of burning tar they had been able to create. They had been able to keep the ward line all but clear, meaning most of the strain of the siege laid in Harry and Bill’s focus and strength. Without the focus potions, the two of them would never have been able to keep up with the demand. This had meant of course they had been able to keep the direct skirmishes to a minimum, they had only lost four fighters since the battle.

The first had been Terry Boot at the very beginning of the siege. He had been conducting maintenance on some of Hogwarts soldiers on the front line, and he had gone alone in the middle of the night unable to sleep. That had been a mistake as the once head boy had been taken by surprise as almost three dozen Death Eaters zeroed in on his location before he could make it within the inner wards. The boy had been able to get to a soldier for cover and send off a Patronus to warn the castle. They had not been able to recover his body.

The other three had been taken when a small breach occurred in the wards, the breach had been tiny only enough for two to come through at a time and it had been open only scant seconds. But it had been enough for a small contingent to enter the grounds to begin attacking anyone that moved. two of the younger students who had been inside the greenhouses had been mere fodder for the invading force, but they didn’t get much further. Lucius, Severus, Septima and a small contingent of the army met them before they could get any further. They had lost Septima in that fight.

But the wards hadn’t fallen, and they wouldn’t.

Hogwarts would stand, for as long as it could…

***

_Sanctuary -09/02/2001_

Clint was heaving, leaning heavily against the wizarding saviour as he did so. He hated apparition, he had only side-alonged on occasion with his uncle, he had tried once to do it himself, however, after a rather unfortunate splinching incident, he had never dared to attempt that particular feat of magic again. 

Still, he pulled himself together as quickly as he was able. Pushing the memories of his last encounter with that particular brand of magic away with as much ferocity as he could muster in his exhausted state. He really didn’t fancy having a panic attack on the camps ward line… it was an impression he didn’t think even he would be able to overcome.

Taking in his surroundings, they appeared to be in a ruined village of some kind, and not a recently ruined village at that. No, the ruins were old, though Clint was unsure exactly how old, the broken-down walls coming to his thigh with no indications of roads or roofing present in the overgrown meadow that surrounded them. Turning to his saviour in question the man merely grinned at him before heading down the slope and into the looming greenery that surrounded them, it wasn’t long before he felt his world shift as they entered the wards, finally seeing the camp in its glory. Calling it a camp was doing the alliance a great disservice in Clint's opinion, though the outer layers of what could only be called a village in the making was filled with tents. New buildings were clearly visible as people shuffled in and out of the structures, chattering, laughing and living.

Clint hadn’t been around this many people in years.

The kids huddled in close to him, Nathan grasping his arm, eyeing their surroundings in equal parts curiosity and fear. While Lena stayed close, arm brushing his own as she eyed their surroundings wearily. It pained him that she had that habit now, that it had been necessary to cultivate such a wariness in her. But such a habit, a skill could save her life and while they were still at war, still at risk, Clint wouldn’t try to weed it out of her.

Before they could get too far, a frizzy-haired woman rushed toward them her eyes plastered on the boy who lived, as she hurried toward him a small entourage of people carrying tomes and scrolls followed in her wake. She didn’t even acknowledge his existence as she grabbed at harry a flurry of words that Clint couldn’t hope to follow falling from her lips as she began to drag the wizarding hero towards the centre of the city.

The man chuckled as he pulled her to a stop having taken only a few steps from their little group.

“Breath Mione, I’m coming, just give me a sec.” The witch huffed but one of her entourage stepped forward pulling her into another conversation as harry turned back to them with an apologetic expression.

“It seems I am needed elsewhere, Astoria if you would,” he began only for the witch to nod, an amused smile on her lips as she responded. “Of course, Harry, I’ll get them settled in Hawthorn wake, I believe tent six is free.” The man nodded before meeting his eye once again. “Apologies, but Astoria will get you settled in for the night with a meal. Someone will be by your tent tomorrow morning to give you some sort of tour, rest well and make yourself comfortable. You're safe here.” With that the wizard turned, the frizzy-haired woman immediately taking his arm as they disappeared with the entourage into the crowd of people leaving him there with his cousins and the two witches as their guides.

The Medic sighed as she turned to them a small smile on her lips. “Come on then, let’s get you some dinner and a bed, you all need rest.”

She turned on the spot and started to the left, Clint hurrying with the two children after her, not wanting to get lost in the throng of refugees.

***

_Hogwarts- 25/12/1998_

The siege had been long and hard, and though they were holding the wall, though they held Hogwarts, that was all they could do. They had held Hogwarts for over eight months and Christmas was upon them. Though there was very little cheer to be found.

Seated within what was once the Headmaster’s office, he with Bill, Severus, Lucius, Hermione and Fillius had come to a decision. Last month they had seen one of the largest attacks on their wards since the Battle. The wards had not fallen but they had lost a fair few fighters in the skirmishes. The most prominent of which being Minerva McGonagall. The attack had been ongoing for almost three weeks and it had been necessary for a small team to go out to do repair work on the stone soldiers in order to keep the line. And Minerva, being who she was, refused to stay back, refusing to allow a student to go in her place. Severus had argued with her about it for hours before she put her foot down.

“I will not risk any more students than we must if I am there the work will go quicker and the group will be less at risk. Just as you will not stay behind when the necessary trips into the forbidden forest occur. Do not test me, Severus Tobias Snape. You may have been Headmaster, but I am just as willing to make you polish the contents of the trophy cupboard now as I was when you were a green eared first year.”

It had shocked the man speechless.

And they had lost her.

But they would have lost more had she not gone.

The attack had finally petered out 5 days beforehand 27 days since the attack began. Only for reports of attacks on muggle-born homes to begin once more with a vengeance.

And they could do nothing from their wards.

“So, it is decided.” The half-goblin intoned as the rest of the group remained in a solum silence.

“Indeed, Miss Grangers Plan does seem for the best in this situation, we are too visible here, which may be good for the ministry, for all the good that it does us.”

“The Ministry won’t stand for long once we do this,” Lucius commented, though there was no fight in it. Just a statement of fact.

“Not that anyone is paying attention to it anyway.” Bill scoffed before sighing. “It’s going to be hard, convincing the inhabitance of the castle. They have become used to this. This semi sense of safety.”

“A false sense.” Severus sneered, though it lacked the hostility it would have once held, the man seemed more and more exhausted these days.

“Perhaps Severus,” Fillius responded, “But you know as well as I, all people hold on tightly to such things in times such as this.”

The Potions Master just scowled in response, taking a long gulp of his scotch.

“Either way,” Harry began, “It doesn’t matter what our people think, it needs to happen. We are at a stalemate. We can not hold out here and make any attempt at ending this war, our resources are stretched to thinly to even contemplate trying at a counteroffensive.” Sighing Harry took a sip of his own drink, grimacing at the burn of the whisky as bled down his throat.

“It’s been decided, we are leaving Hogwarts.”

***

_Sanctuary -09/02/2001_

Astoria had brought them to a tent, an old raggedy tent that Clint had tried very hard not to judge at first glance. Something must have shown on his expression however because the witch had given him a wry smile as she ducked inside. He and his siblings had quickly followed, the blonde remaining behind.

The interior had been a pleasant surprise. Though it wasn’t as large as some wizarding tents Clint had seen, it was more than adequate for the three of them. The living area held a fireplace and a small seating area, with a small but functional kitchen at the back of the room. There were three doors leading off of the common area. Two led to bedrooms, while another to a bathroom, with a toilet and a shower. A shower with clean free-running hot water. And that alone would have been enough to sell the place to Clint. But the tent was fully equipped and the dish of steaming stew and basket of fresh bread rolls just topped it all out, the children having zeroed in on it within seconds of entering the space.

“There should be clean clothing in the dressers that are charmed to fit, though there isn’t much variety I must admit. You’ll be expected at the mediwitchs clinic by eleven tomorrow morning, shall see to that infection of yours and to the potions and vitamin regimes you will require to get back to full health. After that, I believe Longbottom will meet you at the infirmary and take you for orientation. Don’t worry about it too much, life here is quite simple between the house elves and magic, though I suppose you may be grabbed by Nym at her cohort at some point. As soon as they here of your irregular core that lot will be are too curious not to come and investigate, especially when harry locks them out of the temporal loop to get some rest.”

Clint just stared at her for a moment in utter confusion and slight trepidation.

The witch just smiled a toothy smile in response.

“Don’t worry, they are all bark and very little bite, these are Mipsys tents I believe so shell be around in the morning to guide you to the Clinic, just rest up, clean up and enjoy your dinner, and as harry said, remember your safe here.” With that, the witch turned on the spot, all but dancing out of the tent and back into the ‘camp’. Turning back towards his cousins they were looking up at him, a pleading look in their eyes and it was all he could do not to sigh in resignation.

“Go on then.” With a whoop of joy, the two flew towards the dining table, chattering loudly as they began to serve themselves some of the stew and bread. A jovial atmosphere exuding around them that Clint could not quite bring himself to join.

Takin a seat before the fire, facing the tent flap, he let the children have their moment of peace, they needed it after all. He would get the showered and dressed and to bed. Before grabbing whatever was left of the stew in order to keep watch for the night. His magic not yet settled enough for him to be able to do anything else.

***

_Sanctuary -30/12/1998_

Standing in the ruins of the Medieval village, Harry stared at his companion in mild trepidation as she muttered to the wind in Latin and Gaelic which he could barely comprehend.

“Mione?” he questioned only to receive a mild scowl from her in reprimand, sighing he began walking around the ruins taking in the stonework and greenery as the ice crunched underfoot.

It was beautiful, and would have been a sight in its prime, turning to look up he could see the torr looming out above them, while the quarry reached out towards the sky in the south. The excavated village was surrounded by bracken and would be quite a sight on warm a day. But today was not a warm day, no the wind was all but howling through the torr above them as icy rain pelted down hard against their skin. 

So harry waited for his friend to make some comment, patiently he might add. Until he was starting to lose feeling in his toes. Only for her to suddenly call out in success as she moved east, quick and aggressively traipsing in and through the bracken. Cursing his overenthusiastic friend, he followed her through the greenery that clawed at his clothing only for her to come to a stop as she came to a deer trail, as she began muttering under her breath again. It didn’t take her long for her to turn to him once more a look of victory in her eyes.

Without a word, she held her hand out to him and Harry eyed the gesture with a feeling of apprehension.

“And why do you need my hand?”

The woman just rolled her eyes taking his hand by force and dragging him forward beside her.

“Because you’re a Peverell and considering your family sealed this place, I’m going to need your blood to unseal it.”

“Wait, what?” He began only for his friend to completely ignore his complaint casting a diffindo and deftly slicing his palm, leaving him hissing in discomfort. Frozen in place, he watched as his blood fell to the ice-encrusted earth only for the woman to once again begin chanting in Gaelic. The feeling of the wards acknowledging them was intense as if the magic was scanning them for intent. Harry held his ground against it, now well adept at handling sentient wards thanks to his work with Bill and Hogwarts herself. It didn’t take long for the magic to relax around them, acknowledging them, while revealing the space inside. Stepping over the boundary, the weather seemed to ease around them, the wind becoming a breeze, while the rain lightened to a light shower as the overgrown temple came in to view. Unlike the torr above them the stones were purposefully placed, the obelisk-like stones still natural in shape but polished smooth by more than the weather. Above it the trees seemed to have woven around them creating a canopy above the circle, leaving the interior of the temple dry.

It was a massive area, not as large as Hogwarts grounds but close, and with the use of expansion charms and the like, they could have a settlement large enough to hold a couple thousand if necessary. It would do to keep the 308 of them safe as well as any victims in need of sanctuary.

Turning to his friend he met her bright grin with one of his own.

It was perfect.

***

_Sanctuary -10/02/2001_

Sitting in the tent, on the wrong end of the frizzy-haired witch’s wand, Clint felt like a deer caught in headlights.

He had been exiting the clinic with the kids being led off by Luna, the blonde witch who had helped them on the battlefield, in order to enrol them into the schooling they had set up in the camp when he was kidnapped.

One moment he was talking to the heavyset man who went by the name of Neville, discussing the ongoing works within the greenhouses where he would be assigned until a better placement came up for him, or the war ended. And clint having worked on the farm with his uncle had readily agreed. The next moment he was being ordered of by the woman at wand point, the wizard he had been with just sighing in resignation turning in the opposite direction muttering something about finding her keeper.

And now he was here.

Facing a maniacal looking witch who was muttering non-stop, looking more confused and excited as she went on.

“Um, did you want something from me?” He began which had been a mistake. A big mistake.

The woman just started speaking and clint had to wonder how in the hell she was breathing…

“Your core should not work yet it does, what is t an evolutionary defect or step? Or is some misalignment in the core, or perhaps it could be a different sort of squib alignment, but your core is too large for it, did you have accidental magic, no of course you did, there’s no way even with the way you can access it, just having that much magic within you would have allowed for it, made it necessary even, perhaps it was some sort of obscurial that was built back into your system, but that would leave traces, surely? Do you have a wand, I haven’t seen one and neither did harry, but he said he saw spell light which must mean you are capable of some spells, just not in the same way. But you were carrying a bow, so do you channel your magic differently, do you use magical element in order to strengthen it, if you don’t you should. But still, how do you…”

“HERMIONE.” The woman froze in her rant, suddenly looking mildly irritated as the two of them turned to the intruder. And there stood a panting and blushing saviour, Clint's saviour at this moment, he had never in his life been so happy to see harry potter.

“What? You locked me out of the loop, so I had to do something and all you’ve been able to talk about for the past few days is this not wizard you saved, I’m just getting answers.”

The man sighed in frustration advancing on the two while Clint tried to compute the meanings behind the words.

“I brought you out of the loop for you to get some bloody rest, you’ve been awake for almost three days straight, and you can't tell me differently, even your ravens are starting to worry. You need to sleep before that big brain of yours explodes because it already seems to have lost any common curtesy it once held.” The woman huffed in indignation, but the other man didn’t even deign it with an apologetic look.

“And what do you know of manners harry, I had to badger those into you for years and you still interrupt me when I speak!”

The man just shook his head in disbelief as he softened his tone.

“Hermione, you know I only interrupt you when you ramble, when you're asking questions and not waiting for the answers and before you say anything about manners did you ask Clint as to whether you could cast a spell on him before performing god knows how many diagnostic spells on his person?” the woman paused then looking thoughtful for a moment before decidedly sheepish as she hunched in on her self slightly turning back towards him.

“I am so sorry.” The woman said her voice quiet and quite abashed.

Feeling once again like a deer trapped in headlights, Clint's gaze flicked between the witch and harry who just gave him a mildly pleading look.

“That’s quite alright and I am happy to answer any questions you have,” The woman lit up at her words but clint ploughed on before she could get another word in, “After you have gotten some sleep and rest, it sounded like you need it.”

The woman just huffed in defeat turning a steely-eyed glare back towards the wizarding saviour.

“No wonder you like him, he is just as bad as you are.” With nothing else said the woman all but marched from the room, back straight and head held proudly. Leaving behind a blushing Potter and confused Clint.

Slowly the wizard turned back towards, a sincere look in his eyes. “I am really sorry about that, since we settled here, and she imbedded her self in her role as head researcher she has become slightly manic whenever she enters one of her researching binges and loses all social graces. I swear she is a decent and capable adult once she’s had some rest, but you know, all genius’ have their eccentricity’s.”

Taking in a breath Clint rubbed a hand over his face willing away the mental exhaustion that interaction had caused. “No, it’s fine really though I am confused about one thing she said.”

“Only one?” the man joked and Clint allowed a small smile to break across his features.

“Well, no, but only one thing I think you could answer without calling her back here which I am really not ready to do just yet.” The man chuckled and just nodded, waiting for his question.

“What did she mean by day’s?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts?
> 
> (will proofread this one again cause I know I missed bits, I'm just exhausted and wanted to get you guys an update on time!)

**Author's Note:**

> Thoughts?
> 
> Brownie points for those who can guess who's who- Dragon does not count- it's kinda really very obvious...


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